


Flood Leads on to Fortune

by wheredwellthe_brave_atheart



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5153531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheredwellthe_brave_atheart/pseuds/wheredwellthe_brave_atheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are the dreams different, this time?"</p><p>Edmund sighs. "They're... There's been snatches of things, things I don't think I've seen before. Or, maybe I have, and I've forgotten," he struggles to explain, closing his eyes to conjure the images plaguing his sleep. "D'you know what I mean, Lu?"</p><p>The Valiant Queen stays quiet, eyes lost in the embers of the bonfire. "I do," she says finally. "I think we all do, actually."</p><p>The Pevensies near the end of the Golden Age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flood Leads on to Fortune

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Chronicles of Narnia world, created by C.S.Lewis. I do not claim ownership over the word or any characters used. I am not profiting in any way from this work, it is my own invention and for entertainment only, and it is not purported to be a part of C.S. Lewis’s official story line.
> 
> "There is a tide in the affairs of men,/Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune./ Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries./ On such a full sea are we now afloat./And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures." - Julius Ceasar, William Shakespeare.
> 
> Multi-chaptered foray into the Golden Age, in which Edmund is plagued by dreams, Peter by insomnia, Lucy by suitors, and Susan by the sea, and sirens are a metaphor for many things.

Narnia was a country lush with magic and promise, and her monarchs so often reflected the purposeful, determined attitudes of her people. 

On one particular afternoon, however, the rulers in question can be found not in their usual places of command and power, but gathered together under a lazy willow tree on Cair Paravel's lawn, sprawled across the late-summer grass like clothing discarded at a day's end. 

Edmund lets out a deep sigh and runs his hands through the grass as he and his siblings relax amid the willow's shade. 

"Oh," Susan sighs, leaning back against the soft trunk. "Oh, I am glad for this. These past few days have been almost unbearable," she murmurs, gazing up into the sun-dappled leaves. "Do you suppose the council will ever come to a decision?" 

Edmund snorts and swirls the wine in his goblet. "I don't actually think the council believes decisions can be made, but I know each and every affair will sort out soon enough." 

He reflects on the past weeks of turmoil since the collapse of Galma's silver trade, and the subsequent economic consequences for Narnia and all her provinces; and of the utter catastrophe with Tarkhaan Rishti, the Calormen ambassador for culture, who spluttered his way home through the desert two weeks early after a disastrous encounter with a particularly surly family of dwarves; and of Peter's incident with the young Archen knight who was absurdly disrespectful of Lucy's womanhood, an interaction which had almost, but for Susan's swift interception, resulted in blows.

Edmund shakes his head and swallows back another draft of wine. He watches Susan weave a crown of flowers, and when she's finished she calls Lucy down from where their youngest sister is perched in the tree branches to place it, crookedly, atop her head. 

He feels a sudden rush of exhaustion - how long has it been since they all four had simply sat together? Edmund couldn't remember the last evening he hadn't spent drafting trade agreements, or signing ship plans, or going over the next day's council agenda. 

He opens his mouth to voice these thoughts to his brother, but as he looks over at him, Peter stretches his legs out in front of him and throws his head back with a grin. 

Edmund eyes him suspiciously. Peter grinning has so often proved a source of much turmoil in the past. "What are you so giddy about?" he asks warily. 

The High King keeps smiling. "We appear to have an evening off, brother," he says. "And I'm feeling rather inclined to make a party of it."

...

"A bonfire? In midsummer?" Edmund calls to Lucy from his horse, as they're cantering down the cliff path to the beach a quarter hour later. 

His younger sister lets out a peal of laughter and shakes back her hair like a lion tossing it's mane. "Why not, Edmund?" she shouts back, managing her reins with one hand. "Think of how lovely and cool the sand will be once the sun sets - we can stay all night!"

"And Su's told the others to join us if they wish to - it'll practically be a Bacchanalia," Peter winks as his horse overtakes Edmund's on the narrow trail. "So we all know how much fun you'll be tomorrow, Ed."

Edmund considers urging his horse on in an attempt to regain some honour after the jibe against his unfortunate hangover of two months ago, when the Bears had somehow convinced him to drink copious amounts of honey mead the night of a summer tournament - he had spent the following day nursing an aching head and fending off the teasing of his merciless fellow sovereigns. But Peter laughs and races Lucy to the slope of sand, leaving Edmund to languidly pull his reigns and slide from his horse onto the beach, with Susan bringing up the rear. Their guard follows in the bush, slinking onto the sand in sight of their respective monarchs. 

Lucy leaps down from her horse and runs headlong into the waves with an almighty splash, emerging with a merry whoop. "By the Lion!" she exclaims, turning back to face her siblings on the beach. "Why don't we spend every day here?"

Peter laughs. "Duty," he calls, pulling his tunic over his head and joining Lucy in the sea. 

Susan groans from behind him. "Oh, don't mention duty," she pleads, unlacing her braids with deft fingers. "If I hear the word 'duty' one more time I shall scream."

Edmund shuffles his boots off, and turns to face her. "Duty," he says roguishly, beginning to feel a headiness from the wine seep into his body. 

His most demure sister rewards him with a shriek to rival that of the gulls gathered on the beach, flinging her hands in the air and kicking the sea water lapping at the sand in his direction. "You've made an enemy of yourself, sir King!" she cries, grabbing his hand and yanking him into the waves. "I think I must drown you in the surf!"  
Edmund smiles and lets his body stumble along after her, until his clothes are weighed down with water and sand swirls up from the ocean floor to mingle in the foam. He feels heavy but lightheaded, and watches how the sunset turns the water gold with a removed sense of wonder. Susan's soft fingers slip from his own as she cuts through the water like a swan, and he floats on his back, hearing Lucy shriek with laughter whenever Peter lifts her onto his broad shoulders and flings her again into the sea. 

"You're sure you won't join us, Stelia?" Lucy calls to her Lioness guard, teasing the big cat and her dislike of the sea. 

Edmund loses the Cat's no-doubt pithy reply as he lets his breath fill his lungs, deeply, trying very much to clear his foggy head. The minutes pass as the clouds above him swirl and twist like zephyrs. He feels his eyes relax, as a strange song begins to fill his ears, until-

"Well, come on, then!" 

His thoughts are broken like the diamond shards of a shattered icicle, as Peter towers over where he's floating and hauls him upright out of the water by the elbow. "Where've you been, for Aslan's sake, everyone's arrived now, the party's starting." His brother is lit by a glow from the bonfire that seems to have been built on the beach, and Edmund shakes the water from his ears and follows Peter to the shore. He smiles to himself, because the view in front of him is one he's seen countless times in battle. This is, after all, how they work best: Peter leading the charge, with Edmund at his back - usually cleaning up after him. 

They trudge up onto the beach, and Peter gives a shout of laughter and runs off, no doubt to embrace a friend he's spotted among the gathered crowd. 

Edmund spies Lucy wringing her hair out by the fire, and joins her, settling on a nearby birch log. 

Lucy hands him a chunk of bread from the baskets arranged nearby. "Have you been sleeping much, Ed?" his perceptive little sister asks, without any preamble. 

Edmund sighs. "Not much," he admits, chewing the fine bread listlessly. "Night terrors. Since the Ettinsmoor stronghold, you know." He shakes his head, disliking the fog still hovering behind his eyes. The fire looks warped, like its flames are blurring together. "Pete's the insomniac, right, but for me it's always been the dreams after something like this." Their encampment in the Giant's territory the past winter had been the strategic force behind their win of the skirmishes that had raged the previous year, but battle with such creatures left quite the impact. 

Lucy's blue eyes shimmer in the light of the fire. Edmund hears the beat of the satyr's drums start to build from further down the beach, with the accompanying cheers, bells, and hoof beats working up a frenzy. 

Lucy tilts her head and surveys him. "Are they different, this time?" she wonders. Edmund takes a moment to consider. 

"They're... There's been snatches of things, things I don't think I've seen before. Or, maybe I have, and I've forgotten," he struggles to explain, closing his eyes to conjure the images plaguing his sleep. "D'you know what I mean, Lu?"

The Valiant Queen stays quiet, eyes lost in the embers of the bonfire. "I do," she says finally. "I think we all do, actually. Susan's mentioned... something similar, before. Trepidation, she says." Lucy sighs. "She attributes it to the latest suitor debacle with Lord Bryden from Galma, though."

Edmund nods, and spares a moment to wish that his premonitions could be blamed on the attentions of potential lovers. Or, that one woman, in particular, would be the cause of his restless sleep. 

He must wear the thought on his sleeve, for Lucy laughs gaily and teases him about pining for Lady Mira of the Lone Islands, who was indeed sorely missed by Edmund since her return to her home a week ago. He replies with an admittedly sharp retort concerning the attentions she'd placed on a certain Terebinthian prince at the last ball. 

"Oh," Lucy laughed it off. "Well, if you are alert enough for that, I think you are sober enough to go review the latest harvest estimates from the Beruna valley, or the Lone Islands' petition for adjusted trade terms-"

"All right, all right, enough," Edmund groans, shoving Lucy's shoulder. "I'm useless, is that what you want to hear?"

"Ed," she says evenly, "you couldn't be useless if you tried."

He smiles and bumps her again, but gently this time, in affection. 

Several minutes pass as they sit together in the warmth of the flames, until Lucy leans her head on his shoulder and asks, seriously, "Ed, are you happy, here and now?" 

He opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted as the satyrs' drums begin to pound out an especially favourite tune of Lucy's, and Susan emerges from the dusk to swirl around the pair in glee. 

"Oh, dance with me, Lu!" she laughs, twirling in the sand and smelling of rich perfume and wine. She tugs Lucy's hands and beckons her along, leaving their youngest sister to spare Edmund a consoling glance before the two Narnian Queens join the surging circle of dancers. 

Edmund watches them melt into the crowd, their hair flying and hands thrown in the air, but doesn't join in the revelry. Instead, he stumbles to his feet, his boots long forgotten somewhere in the sand, and turns his face to the water's edge. He wanders down the beach to the sea, his feet carrying him along until his toes are chilled by the waves. 

Edmund vaguely registers the music of the crowd on the beach fading away as he gazes at the emerging stars in the sky. Another song begins to take its place, one that he realizes now had been crouched in the corners of his mind since they'd arrived at the sea that afternoon - a haunting, stirring melody, filled with yearning and power. 

He forgets his friends on the beach, forgets his tax records and trade disputes and silver crisis, forgets his siblings and his own name as he wades further out into the water, alone and unguarded in the creeping darkness. His chest is cold as waves lap around his lungs, but still he is compelled forward, drawn to the song which is surely emanating just beyond his sight. He swims faster, now, desperate as the song cries louder, and higher, and if only he could reach it-

Water rises over his head, and into his mouth, and the song fills his head as darkness falls over him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! More chapters to follow.


End file.
